A Song at Shannon's

Two men came out of Shannon's, having knownThe faces of each other for so longAs they had listened there to an old song,Sung thinly in a wastrel monotoneBy some unhappy night-bird, who had flownToo many times and with a wing too strongTo save himself; and so done heavy wrongTo more frail elements than his alone.

Slowly away they went, leaving behindMore light than was before them. Neither metThe other's eyes again or said a word.Each to his loneliness or to his kind,Went his own way, and with his own regret,Not knowing what the other may have heard.